


Don’t Leave Me!

by essexmermaid



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Consensual Sex, Dorothea Frazil is a hot babe, Endeavour Morse Needs a Hug, Episode: S4E1 Game, F/M, Hurt Endeavour Morse, M/M, Oral Sex, Parental Fred Thursday, Protective Fred Thursday, ThursDAD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29961897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essexmermaid/pseuds/essexmermaid
Summary: Detective Chief Inspector Fred Thursday saves Dorothea Frazil’s life and they begin a relationship. But Morse is jealous.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse & Fred Thursday, Endeavour Morse/Fred Thursday, Fred Thursday/Dorothea Frazil
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Fred Saves Her Life

“After him,” cried Thursday as the Jag slammed to a stop.

Detective Chief Inspector Thursday and his Constable Morse had been chasing another car which was driven by a young man called Castle who they now knew to be a multiple murderer, when the car in front had veered off the road and crashed right in front of them.

Castle had crawled from the overturned wreck and was staggering away. Morse leapt from the Jag and dashed after him.

As Thursday ran towards it, the crashed car started to burn. Thursday reeled back from the flames, one arm shielding his face. He knew that Dorothea Frazil, editor of the Oxford Mail and the latest intended victim of the killer, was still in the back of the car and he could hear her frantically screaming his name.

“Fred, Fred, don’t leave me!”

Tugging at the car door handle made no impact, it was wedged shut. Miss Frazil was battering at the window from inside and he could see her hands were tied. 

“I’m not leaving you!” he called to her. “I’m right here!”

Looking desperately about he spied a tyre lever that had spilled from the boot. Grasping it in both hands he heaved desperately at the crumpled door frame praying that he could prise it open before the whole bloody car exploded. One more mighty wrench with all his weight behind it and the door flew open.

“Fred, Fred!” cried Miss Frazil, wriggling her way out of the back seat.

“Here now,” gasped Thursday, dragging her unceremoniously to her feet.

He shoved her in front of him, his arm wrapped awkwardly around her shoulders. They stumbled away as fast as they could, thick smoke now pouring from the engine making them cough and splutter. He knew they had to get as far away as possible before the whole thing ignited.

There was an almighty whump from behind them and a tremendous scorching blast knocked them both flat. Thursday had by pure instinct thrown her in front of him, sheltering her from the worst of the fire, landing heavily on top of her, both face down and stunned by the noise, heat and ferocity of the explosion. He lay for a minute gasping for breath, dazed and confused. Underneath him, Miss Frazil groaned and he realised he was crushing her into the ground.

As he eased himself off her, Miss Frazil scrambled to her feet, seemingly less stunned than he was. It was her turn to reach down and help him to his feet, her bound hands still roped together. She drew Thursday’s arm across her shoulders once more, this time to steady him as they stumbled to the Jag. They made their way to the far side of the police car and collapsed together against the bonnet, sheltering from the fierce inferno of the crashed car.

“Dear God!” she exclaimed.

Thursday was wracked with coughing, unable to speak. The smoke and fumes were tearing at his lungs. He leant his back against the wheel arch and tipped his head back, trying to suck in sufficient air to breathe properly.

He was suffering, he had risked his life, but it was worth it. He’d saved Dorothea from a horrible death. He would never have left her, even to prevent injury to himself, he could not stand back and see her come to any harm. 

Dorothea was swearing furiously beside him. Oddly, her anger distracted him as he realised she was in better shape than he’d feared. He reached out and grasped her hands with one of his, trying to calm her and quietly relishing their momentary closeness. They sat holding hands for a few minutes, grateful for their narrow escape.

“Uniform,” muttered Thursday.

He’d heard the police siren before they could see the squad car tearing towards them and he had been expecting them. He’d radioed for police back up only moments before the car had swerved off the road and crashed upside down.

Braking sharply, the police car stopped just yards away and the policemen tumbled out to gaze at the burning wreck. 

“Don’t just stand there, get after them, you idle buggers,” shouted Thursday in a hoarse voice.

The shocked officers snapped into action, having only just noticed their Inspector slumped on the ground and crowded round him for orders.

“One suspect, male, mid twenties, extremely dangerous, he’s killed already,” he wheezed as he hauled himself to his knees. He leant across the bonnet of the Jag and pointed down the road to the old house. 

“Morse is after him. Go and help Morse.”

Thursday watched the policemen race off, weirdly lit by the flames from the crashed car which were now dying down. Slipping back down beside Dorothea he prayed that his lad had come to no harm, tackling a cold blooded killer all on his own.

“He’ll be alright,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “They’ll soon catch up with Morse.”

He nodded. There would be hell to pay if anything had happened to his precious lad. 

“You alright?” he asked her, truly concerned.

Dorothea looked a bit battered but managed a grim smile which cheered him. He admired the younger woman for her strength of character and independence, and she had become a friend over the years. If he thought about it, he would have admitted to being strongly attracted to her both for her personality and her looks, but he had never dared examine his feelings for her until now.

“Yes. Yes I am. No thanks to that wretch. Though it’s my fault we crashed.” 

“How come?” he asked.

“I got my hands around his neck and tried to stop him driving,” she admitted, holding up her bound hands.

Thursday pulled out a little pocket knife and sawed through the rope, freeing her hands. He cuffed her raw wrists gently in his own large hands and massaged them softly. He still felt protective of her despite having tackled the immediate danger and shyly took the opportunity to caress her without seeming too obvious. 

“You tried to distract him?” he clarified.

“No. I was trying to strangle the bugger!” she spat.

Her ferocity impressed Thursday. He was tickled that she showed no self pity, only righteous anger against her deranged kidnapper.

He coughed then ducked his head and tried to stifle any sounds but couldn’t help himself. He threw back his head and burst out laughing.

Miss Frazil looked at him curiously.

“It’s not funny,” she said, nevertheless amused at his reaction. “That bastard was planning to kill me, same as those other poor souls. If you hadn’t caught up he would have done.”

Thursday slumped down beside her.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. So long as you’re alright,” he apologised, still laughing. He put an arm around her to try to mollify her. 

She wasn’t really angry, just shocked at the close shave she’d had. She felt safe now with Fred comforting her and she began to feel a bit giddy. She began to laugh with him. 

By the time the ambulance arrived just minutes later, the bemused ambulance men found Inspector Thursday and Miss Frazil sitting on the ground, clutching each other and laughing like drains. Hysteria, they put it down to, or shock. Either way the two of them appeared unharmed although streaked with dirt and laughing fit to burst.

888

As the ambulance man checked over Miss Frazil, Thursday waited anxiously for any sign of Morse. Through the smoke and gathering darkness he made out some figures heading his way.

“Morse,” he called, hurrying round the Jag to greet them.

But it was only a couple of uniformed officers holding up the suspect between them. He was soaking wet and struggling to walk.

“Morse,” he demanded, “ where’s Morse?”

A slow anger had begun to take hold of Thursday as he fretted about his lad.

“Constable Morse is just behind us, Sir,” answered one of the policemen.

“Get the cuffs on him,” he ordered, gesturing at Castle, dismissing them. 

His impatience rose as he waited for Morse to appear on the road and when he did Thursday rushed towards him. Morse too was wet through, stumbling wearily alongside another uniformed policeman.

“Morse!” he cried out. “Morse, are you hurt?”

Morse shook his head as he approached. Lit by the flames from the wreck, he looked unearthly in the diabolical light. Pale, wet skin emphasised the dark eye sockets giving him a skeletal look, while the eerie light caught the colours of his curls. In the reflected light he looked for a moment as if his hair were on fire.

“I’m alright,” Morse gasped as he fell limply into Thursday’s out stretched arms.

Thursday held his exhausted bagman to his chest for a brief hug to reassure himself his lad had returned in one piece then half dragged the skinny lad over to the Jag. Propping Morse on the bonnet he shouted for the ambulance men, one arm around the lad’s shivering shoulders.

“Get yourselves over here,” he yelled, “Morse needs help.”

An ambulance man approached with a red blanket and wrapped it round Morse. He carefully checked Morse’s pulse and shone a torch into the lad’s eyes to gauge his response. Finally he tipped down Morse’s head and to show the Inspector a clump of rust red blood dried into Morse’s curls. 

“Head wound,” he declared. “Not too bad by the look of it. Always bleed a lot, head wounds. Needs looking at, though. He should go to hospital for an X-ray, just in case.”

Thursday grasped the edges of the blanket, folding them across Morse’s chest to wrap him up warm. He was truly angry now having seen Morse’s wound.

“He hit me with a brick. I passed out, only for a moment though. Nothing to worry about,” protested Morse, resistant as ever to the idea of going to hospital.

Thursday’s simmering anger boiled over. He was outraged at the thought of Morse, his brave lad, being bashed over the head by that bastard. Leaving the ambulance man to clean Morse’s wound, he strode over to the suspect who was weakly slumped against the squad car, flanked by two uniformed police officers.

“I told you to cuff him,” Thursday exploded. “He’s already killed half a dozen and tried to kill again.”

The officers had to fend off Thursday as he grabbed Castle, intending to land a vicious thump. At that moment another police car arrived and before Thursday could land the punch he found himself bodily restrained by the large figure of Sergeant Jim Strange, newly arrived.

“What’s going on here?” Strange enquired calmly, as if the sight of an incandescent Inspector was an everyday event.

“That bastard lumped Morse,” said a furious Thursday, made even more angry by being blocked by Strange’s considerable bulk.

“Morse?” asked Strange. “How is he?”

“Over there. Covered in blood,” snapped Thursday. 

Physically manhandling Thursday back in Morse’s direction, Strange successfully diverted his angry Inspector from belting Castle and turned his attention to Morse.

“Alright, matey?” asked Strange.

“Yeah,” replied Morse. “Bit of a headache,” he added facetiously, calculated to diffuse his governor’s anger.

Jim smiled sympathetically. Thursday huffed in anger and stood close to Morse, tipping Morse’s chin up with a gentle touch so he could look closely into his eyes. Morse slipped a hand out from underneath the blanket to clasp Thursday’s hand. There was an unspoken agreement between them to make light of the injury. Thursday knew that Morse hated hospitals and the sight of blood, especially his own blood and was silently asking for him not to make a scene.

All at once Thursday’s anger evaporated. His desire to protect Morse from further upset won out. 

“Come on lad,” sighed Thursday. “Let’s go and get you looked at.”

Taking one arm, Thursday guided Morse round to the passenger seat of the Jag. Sergeant Strange handed Miss Frazil into the back seat and stepped up to receive his orders from the Inspector before he drove off.

“Cordon off the site. Get the photographer out here. Keep the cuffs on him, Jim,” Thursday insisted, nodding over at the suspect. “Don’t let him out of your sight for a moment. I don’t want him topping himself before we’ve a chance to question him.”

“Sir, yessir,” said Strange, understanding the Inspector’s concern. A dead suspect was no use to them if they wanted to keep him alive for the courts to decide his fate.


	2. He Takes Morse Home

Despite his protestations, Inspector Thursday insisted on taking Morse to hospital to be checked over properly. Morse was taken off to be seen by one senior doctor while Miss Frazil had her chafed wrists examined by another. 

She returned to the waiting room to find Thursday pacing thoughtfully. She could see he was still worried about Morse. She felt a surge of compassion for the Inspector, he tried hard to present a gruff exterior to the world and few people got to see that he had a very soft spot for his lad Morse.

She held up her hands for Thursday to see, trying to cheer him with some good news.

“All done!” she said brightly. “Nothing more than a few bruises and cuts around my wrists.”

Thursday stepped close, gently catching hold of her wrists to examine the bandages. She was deliberately putting on a brave smile he could tell and he appreciated her effort at making light of her ordeal.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he murmured as she gratefully leant into his solid frame.

“Ohhh Fred!” she admitted. “I thought I was going to die in that bloody car. I can still see the flames, it was awful. But I wasn’t going to give in, I wasn’t going to let him win.”

From long experience, the Inspector knew how to handle terrified victims. A calm, commanding presence and a little kindness went a long way to reassuring most people, but this was something different. She needed some comfort and he was willing to provide it. He was touched by her trust in him.

He pulled her into a gentle hug revelling in the chance to hold her. He didn’t want her to think he was trying to take advantage of her vulnerable situation and patiently waited to see if she really wanted his embrace.

“It’s over. We’ve got him. No need to worry now.”

Dorothea snuggled in closer. The brave face she put on for the public was a mask he understood, the only way she could deal with the relentless bad news and violence reported in her paper day after day. They had a lot in common that way, having to keep their personal feelings closely hidden or leave them at the hall stand.

He laid his chin on top of her head and squeezed her before relaxing his hold. It was Dorothea who hung onto him this time, not letting him back away just yet. 

She tipped her face up to look into his. Heavy lidded eyes gave nothing away but a smile tugged at the edge of his lips. 

“You saved my life. I’ll always be grateful.”

“Couldn’t leave you, now, could I?” he said lightly.

Without thinking she stretched up and kissed him on the cheek. He raised his eyebrows but didn’t pull away. His smile grew a little wider, encouraging her to think he enjoyed her attentions.

For a fraction of a second she thought he was going to kiss her back but right at that moment the doors opened and a doctor strode in.

Thursday swung to greet him, one arm still around Dorothea.

“Are you the parents?” asked the young doctor, having seen them embrace.

“Inspector Thursday,” Fred announced. “Constable Morse is my bagman.”

“How is he, Doctor?” she asked brightly although her concern for her friend was clearly shown by the worried frown on her face.

“Miss Frazil,” Thursday introduced her. “A friend of Constable Morse.”

Thursday reluctantly let go of Dorothea.

“He’s fine, Miss Frazil. A nasty blow to the head but no concussion. He’ll need a good rest and someone to keep an eye on him for a day or two.”

“I’ll look out for him,” Thursday insisted immediately. The doctor acknowledged his offer and left them alone again.

“Oh that’s a relief,” she sighed. “Let’s get him home and settled down for the night.”

“Home?” queried Thursday. “He’ll insist on going straight to the station like as not.”

“But the doctor said he needs some rest?”

“He’s like you, Miss Frazil. He’ll let himself rest only when the story’s been put to bed. We’ve a case to make and a suspect to question before then. He won’t want to miss that.”

Dorothea rolled her eyes. It was not her place to tell Morse what to do and the Inspector was right. Having identified and captured the murderer, Morse would want to hear every word of the police interrogation for himself. Besides, he would have Inspector Thursday watching over him for now, ready to step in if he thought Morse was overdoing it. 

====

“Have you any change?” she asked to divert Thursday’s attention. “I want to use the pay ‘phone but I’ve left my handbag at the office.”

Thursday turned to her. With a searching look he understood that she was delicately referring to the violent way in which she’d been dragged from her desk, tied up and kidnapped and nearly murdered. She was bravely trying to put that horror behind her.

He understood, she could see. He had a way of looking, she decided, that took in everything without her having to say it all. 

Digging into his pocket, Thursday pulled out a handful of loose change, selecting the right coins and dropping them into Dorothea’s open hand.

She wanted to distract him from his worries over Morse and so explained her plans for the rest of the evening.

“Thanks. I’ll get my editor to meet me at the office.”

“At this time? What for?” puzzled Thursday.

“It’s not too late,” she replied. “We’ve plenty of time to lay out tomorrow’s front page yet.”

Thursday raised his eyebrows in question.

“A story like this? And a first hand account from me as an eye witness?” she laughed. “It’s too good a headline to miss. We can be first to report on the capture of a dangerous criminal and the heroic deeds of our brave policemen.”

She grinned at Thursday, teasing him a little.

He shook his head.

“No. Not this time. No mention of Morse,” he insisted. “Got the lad into terrible trouble with that last article about the ‘Singing Detective’. Keep him out of it.”

“Oh,” she replied airily,”Who said anything about Morse?”

She gave him a cheeky smile as he realised she was referring to him but before he could object she’d turned away.

Thursday looked longingly after her as he watched her walk down the hospital corridor. He shook his head and smiled at her impudence. But he had to admit he admired her pluck, trying to recover her composure after that dreadful assault and kidnapping. She was a professional newspaper editor to her fingertips, he’d give her that, not letting her own personal trauma get in the way of a sensational front page spread.

Fred worried about her all the same. Sometimes there’s a delay before the shock has an affect, he knew. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on Miss Frazil at least until after this whole wretched story had disappeared from the headlines. 

He was strongly attracted to this feisty, independent woman. They’d known one another long enough to become friends, some ten years or more he reflected. She was fond of him, he had known for a while, from the way she teased him and sometimes flirted with him. She often came up with details that might help the Police throw light on a case so they already had a close relationship through their professional contact. And if she needed him in the coming days and nights then Fred would be very happy to get even closer to her.

====

When Morse shuffled back into the waiting room he looked tired and rumpled but was fully coherent. Thursday immediately stepped forward, anxious to know how he was feeling.

He took Morse by the upper arms and looked closely into the young man’s eyes, tilting his head to force Morse to look back at him. 

“Morse?” he asked quietly.

Morse grinned self consciously.

“Sir?”

“How’re you feeling? How’s that head?”

Thursday put his hand gently onto Morse’s curls and combed his fingers lightly through his dishevelled hair. The touch was so intimate, so tender that Dorothea’s heart lurched just watching them together.

“Bit of a headache, that’s all. No concussion the doctor said.” Morse offered a weak smile as he leant into Thursday’s broad hand, seeking comfort from the big man.

Thursday drew Morse slowly into a hug, gently wrapping him up so that Morse could rest his head on his shoulder. They stood together for a minute, no words needed between the proud governor and his brave lad. 

They understood that they needed one another despite their very obvious differences. It was not just about police work, where, if anything, Morse was beginning to outshine his superior officer in the complex, cerebral cases such as this one. 

Morse also needed his Inspector to guide and to protect him when his ideas and theories ran away with him. Morse had been emotionally shattered after the Mason Gull case and it was his devoted mentor Thursday who had doggedly guarded Morse from further trauma and grounded him back in reality.

Dorothea turned away, genuinely moved at the depth of affection between these two. She wondered if either of them realised how precious they were to one another. She even felt a little envious. It was a along while since she’d had anyone to care for her so deeply or had anyone to care for. 

Thursday was the first to speak, convinced now that Morse was truly out of danger.

“Gave us all a fright there, lad,” murmured Thursday. “Thought it might have been worse.”

“No,” Morse insisted. “I’m alright.”

“Drop you back at yours?”

“No!” protested Morse. “We’ve work to do before questioning the suspect. A case to make against him.”

“Right then,” Thursday allowed, while sharing a private look of resignation with Dorothea. Morse was just as stubborn and determined to see this through as Thursday had predicted. 

“Let’s get you into some dry clothes then back to the station. We’ll drop Miss Frazil at The Mail on the way.”

“Oh!” said Morse, only just remembering what she had been through, and disentangling himself from Thursday’s arms. “Miss Frazil. How are you feeling?”

“Oh you sweet boy!” she laughed, stepping in to pat his cheek.”You’re the one who’s been bashed on the head, Morse, and half drowned, not me. I’ve just a few bumps and bruises that’ll soon mend. I’m fine, really I am, thanks to Inspector Thursday. He saved my life.”

Thursday was surprised to be reminded of his heroics. All in the line of, he thought. He was momentarily caught out, seeing how thankful she was. Dorothea was gazing at him with admiration. He felt an unfamiliar sensation of being pleased with himself rather than his usual consideration for everyone else.

“Come on then, let’s get out of here,” suggested Dorothea, sparing Thursday from further embarrassment. She linked her arm through Morse’s and walked him towards the exit. “I never did like hospitals.”

Thursday fell into step behind them, looking on indulgently. He was pleased beyond anything that Morse was not too badly hurt. And he was relieved that Morse was up to the task of the police work that lay ahead. He could do with Morse’s great brain focused on this case to sort through all the complexity and detail. He desperately wanted to present a cast iron case that would prove the suspect’s guilt beyond any doubt.

He knew that Dorothea always indulged Morse and had grown close to him. Thursday watched his favourite bagman brighten up while she talked to him. She was a good friend to Morse, Thursday could see that. Thursday realised he felt a bit jealous of the pair of them. He found Dorothea Frazil very attractive, with her quick wit and ready laughter. He had to admit to himself that he would like to get to know her better, to hold her again, to find out if she wanted to know him better too.

===

It was early morning when they drew up outside Thursday’s house in the Jag, Morse at the wheel, having dropped off Miss Frazil at her office. 

“They won’t drive me out,” Morse concluded, having argued with Thursday about the possibility of leaving Oxford. “You’ve got to take a stand somewhere.”

Thursday was flooded with both alarm and relief; a kind of cold, creeping terror that Morse would stay in Oxford defiant in the face of unseen, powerful forces who wanted him gone, yet profoundly relieved that Morse would stay. He could not bear the thought of Morse walking out of his life, not now, not when he had become so attached to his lad. There was a bone deep satisfaction in knowing that Morse would need his help to navigate through their dangerous police work and that for a long time to come he would need Thursday to watch over him.

Thursday couldn’t help himself. He reached out and squeezed Morse’s knee.

“You need some dry clothes, Morse,” he said. “Come in and we’ll get you cleaned up?”

“Sir?” Uncertain but eager to accept, Morse added, “Yes, thanks. If it’s no problem.”

Thursday heaved himself out of the car and walked towards his front door followed by Morse.

As Thursday stepped indoors, his spirits lifted despite the emptiness of his house. This place no longer felt like home, with no wife to welcome him back with a kiss, no children clattering around, no smell of home cooking. He had lost so much that he had to cling onto the hope that there was one person in all the world who still needed him; Morse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday wants to protect Morse so takes him home to clean him up, hoping Morse will replace the family he’s missing. But things will get out of hand between them.


	3. Morse Kisses Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morse’s infatuation with his governor gets out of hand

Thursday gulped down the rest of his whiskey while he waited for Morse. He’d sent the lad upstairs to get out of his wet clothes and take a bath. Of course he could have taken Morse over to his own place, but this way Thursday got to fuss over him a little, to care for the lad and try to convince himself that Morse needed him.

Was this what it had been like for his wife, Win, he wondered, before she had given up on him and divorced him?

Had she forever been waiting patiently for a word or a look to know that Fred needed her? Had she carried out these little kindnesses, like making a cuppa or laying out a clean shirt for him, in the hope of being noticed instead of taken for granted?

Oh Win, why hadn’t he been able to see how much she loved him?

But it was too late now. She’d walked out and never come back. When she sent through the papers from the solicitor, he’d signed them bringing to an end twenty six years of married life, most of it happy. 

She hadn’t wanted the house so he was still rattling round in their empty family home, too big for him on his own and full of memories. It was a lonely option but he hadn’t the heart to leave this house behind and move on. He was trying to offer this house as a refuge to someone who needed to be sheltered from the world, to a young man who had nowhere of his own to call home. 

Morse never seemed to notice how often Fred stuck his neck out for him. Fred now knew what it was like to care for someone who hardly noticed that you were there. Someone who took it for granted that you would be there to catch them when they fell, use all your wits to steer them clear of danger, all your strength to haul them back onto their feet. 

Fred went upstairs to lay out some of Sam’s old clothes for Morse. They wouldn’t be a perfect fit but they were at least warm and dry. Morse needed looking after and Fred was determined to do just that.

Picking up the jumper, hand knitted by Win, Fred noticed the elbows were both darned. Had they really been so hard up as a family that the boy’s clothes were hand made and then repaired? Had they been carefully darned by Win to make every penny go as far as she could? 

It was such a little thing but struck Fred hard. He had stupidly leant his brother all their life savings who then lost the lot, ruining them. To Fred their savings had been the byproduct of his wages over many years. To Win he now realised, the money had been years and years of scrimping and saving and hard work and small gestures like this darning. It wasn’t just losing the money itself that had finally broken Win’s heart; she could not forgive Fred for hiding the fact that he’d lost it all then lying about the loan.

He had lost their savings and his wife through his own stupidity.

Every day he thought of her and regretted his loss.

He buried his face in Sam’s old jumper, breathing in the smell of soap and wool, scents of a home that no longer existed, of a son that had left to see the world and no longer had any use for childish things. He was homesick for a memory of their family home, desperately unhappy without his family around him.

He wanted nothing more than to build a safe haven, to protect those he loved. And if it couldn’t be for his family then perhaps it could be for Morse.

===

Fred heard Morse leave the bathroom and looked up to see Morse bare chested in the bedroom doorway.

Morse had a large bath towel wrapped round his skinny waist, reaching to his ankles. 

Fred stared at him, distracted by the sight of the young man. Morse was certainly beautiful, soft, pale skin flushed a little pink after his hot bath. His damp curls were a dull gold, pressed to his head. Those blue eyes, startlingly bright, were watching him back.

Morse ducked his head shyly, not used to being undressed and looked at. He blushed a little, feeling bashful under his governor’s gaze. 

“These should fit you,” offered Thursday to break the silence, “some of Sam’s old things.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Morse and shuffled a bit closer.

Thursday held up the jumper to Morse’s shoulders. He tilted his head to gauge the size and smiled fondly at memories of his tall son as a youngster. 

Misinterpreting the sad smile, Morse stepped closer.

Thursday found the lad staring at him.

“Alright, Morse?” he asked, a little confused at the intense gaze.

“Mmm,” said Morse.

Thursday dropped the jumper back onto the bed, intending to leave the room and let Morse get dressed but Morse stepped right up to him. He stood stock still with surprise as Morse laid his palms on his broad front.

“Morse?” he asked gently.

Morse laid his forehead against Thursday’s chest, then slipped his arms around Thursday’s waist and clasped him hard.

Feeling awkward now, Thursday wondered what to do for the best. He hadn’t encouraged Morse’s infatuation yet he had been aware of it. Morse seemed to be going through a phase of hero worship where everything his Inspector did or said was to be admired. He had a proper crush on him, Thursday realised.

He shouldn’t respond, he should step away, make it clear that this sort of intimacy between them was not right but Fred understood that Morse needed him. Morse would be crushed if he rejected him outright. Also Fred was lonely and feeling sorry for himself and here was Morse needing him badly. He could not resist.

So Fred put his arms around Morse and held him close.

Immediately he knew it was the wrong thing to do because Morse raised his head and pressed his face to Fred’s in a clumsy attempt to kiss him. The kiss landed under Fred’s chin as he tried to lean away.

“Morse,” he cautioned.

“I just want,” Morse muttered. “Just want…”

Fred loosened his hold and tried to step away but Morse clung to him.

“Please,” Morse gasped. “A kiss that’s all, just a kiss.”

Fred was torn. The lad was so needy yet it was wrong to encourage him. He made the mistake of looking down at Morse and instead of backing off, fell headlong into his blue gaze. Fred closed his eyes, overwhelmed by how lovely Morse looked and dipped his head automatically.

Morse reached up, winding his arms around Fred’s neck. Passively Fred let Morse kiss him, softly at first then greedily, demanding a response. 

He hadn’t planned to go this far but Morse was irresistible; beautiful, eager and needing him.

Eyes still closed, Fred kissed him back.

They tussled a bit for footing, Fred anxious not to tread on Morse’s bare feet with Morse clinging to him.

It turned into a rough, hard kiss, Morse desperately pushing into Fred who kissed him back albeit less ardently. 

Finally Fred pulled away, fighting for self control. Wildly, Morse tugged at his neck, urging him to keep on kissing. Fred had to grapple with him to push Morse to arms length.

“That’s enough now, Morse,” he ordered.

“But, Sir,” Morse argued.

“Enough I said,” snapped Thursday, having to be firm to get through to the lad.

Morse suddenly went limp in Fred’s grip, giving up completely and turning his face away in shame.

“I’m sorry, Sir, so sorry…I never meant….”

“It’s alright Morse,” cajoled Fred. “Gone a bit too far is all.”

For a horrible moment Fred thought that Morse might burst out crying, he looked so mortified at misreading his governor’s intentions. Instead Morse became petulant, wriggling out of Fred’s hands and turning his back, breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry Sir,” Morse repeated, sounding angry this time. “I didn’t mean to cause any offence.”

“Morse,” tried Fred soothingly, reaching out to touch Morse’s shoulder lightly.

Morse shook him off in a huff, embarrassed and ashamed at what he’d done.

“I’d better get dressed now, Sir,” he snapped, emphasising Fred’s title sarcastically. 

Fred’s hands dropped to his side. He stepped round Morse, who wouldn’t look at him, and left him to get dressed. They’d have to talk about this another time, Fred reckoned. The moody bugger had taken offence at being rejected and would be difficult for a while. 

Nevertheless, Thursday didn’t regret the kiss. Morse really did need him but he’d didn’t want to take advantage of a confused, lonely young man. He’d given Morse what he wanted, against his own better judgement because he felt Morse needed him. 

Fred needed to be needed.

There was the truth of it, a more serious realisation than he liked to admit. It was all very well fighting crime in the abstract but his actual vocation, his real reason for putting his life on the line day after day was to be needed.

And here was Morse, crying out for Fred’s help and attention. He was glad Morse needed him but he had to get their relationship onto a better footing than this.


	4. Your Miss Frazil

Later that morning Detective Chief Inspector Thursday was back at the police station sitting beside Mr Bright who was answering questions at a hastily assembled press conference. The journalists were launching questions at Chief Superintendent Bright who was firing back answers very competently.

Yes, the suspected killer had been caught. 

Yes, there had been a string of deaths that appeared to be related. 

No, there was no need for the public to be further alarmed. 

No, the police were not looking for anyone else in connection with these foul crimes.

Mr Bright was perfect for these public occasions which could otherwise so easily get out of order. All shiny buttons and neatly pressed uniform, he looked the very picture of dependability, calmly reassuring the press and the public that the police had the situation under control.

Inspector Thursday was relieved it wasn’t up to him to lead the show; he didn’t have the patience for the leading questions put forward by the Press. He was encouraged by the supportive smile he got from Miss Frazil in the front row, representing the Oxford Mail and holding her own amongst the national newspapers. 

She caught his eye and he nodded back to her, otherwise sitting stony faced throughout.

“We have nothing to apologise for,” snapped Bright, irritated at the last question which implied the Police had been slow to catch the killer. “The crimes were carried out by a cold blooded killer who cleverly covered his tracks. Had it not been for some brilliant detective work from my force then these apparently random deaths would never have been uncovered as murder nor would they have been connected.”

“Isn’t that your job?” called out an anonymous hack rudely from the back.

“We deeply regret that the killer was able to carry out these dreadful crimes without being stopped earlier. But there was no way of knowing that there was just one man involved.” 

Mr Bright was having to raise his voice to be heard above the growing noise from the journalists.

Miss Frazil stood up, talking loudly over her rowdy associates to shut them up.

“As a victim of this man…as a kidnap victim who very nearly died at his hands, I’d like to give my heartfelt thanks to the brave detectives who saved me from certain death, who risked their lives to pull me from a burning car. I can never thank you enough for saving my life.”

It was a sincere and emotional tribute, spoken directly to Detective Chief Inspector Fred Thursday sitting right in front of her.

As she knew it would, it stopped the crowd from trying to find an excuse to criticise the Police and turned into a spontaneous round of applause for ‘our brave boys in blue’.

Graciously, Mr Bright nodded to her and acknowledged her support.

Taking advantage of her prominent role in this case, Miss Frazil made the crowd of assembled journalists laugh by adding, “You can read all about it in the Oxford Mail!”.

Mr Bright smartly brought the difficult press conference at an end and stood up, head held high. Public opinion mattered greatly to him and the force, and he had done a good job of maintaining their prestige today. The conference was over and the journalists left, eager to get their copy back to their newspapers.

Miss Frazil spoke quietly to Thursday.

“I brought you this morning’s Mail so you can read my article. I down played your role a little, I know you’re not keen on too much publicity. And here’s my statement too. I’m happy to come in to talk it through but thought I might save you some time by writing it up. You’ll be busy I expect.”

Thursday was touched by her consideration and smiled, taking the papers from her without taking his eyes off her. She was mindful of his workload and was trying to lighten it for him. It was thoughtful of her, and he appreciated this, a personal kindness from one friend to another.

“Thanks. Done me a favour.”

“Oh, happy to help.” She indicated the papers in Thursday’s hand. “Give me a ring when you want to talk it through. Anytime. Maybe over a drink this evening?”

Was this a proposal? Or a professional meeting? Her notes would certainly save him some time in his busy day but was he reading too much into her suggestion?

“Glad to. I’ll give you a ring,” he agreed, getting his hopes up that this would be a chance to tell her how he felt about her.

Reluctantly he had to leave her to catch up with his senior officer.

“Well done, Sir, that went well,” Thursday told Mr Bright when they were back in Bright’s office, planning their next steps.

“Do you think so?” asked Bright, pleased at the compliment and knowing that he had done a good job.

Fred nodded.

“And do thank your Miss Frazil for her timely intervention,” added Bright. 

Fred’s eyebrows shot up. What did he mean, ‘my’ Miss Frazil? Had he been too obviously flirting with her?

“It was you who pulled her from the car wasn’t it?” elaborated Bright. “You who saved her life? Risked your own? Quite the hero of the hour, Fred.” He smiled kindly at his Inspector, knowing he was not used to accepting praise.

Fred straightened up, shoulders back, modest but pleased with Bright’s kind words.

“Well,” said Bright. 

The conversation was at an end. They had a lot of detailed police work to get on with.

Mr Bright smiled fondly after his departing Chief Inspector. A brave man, he knew, and a good man to have on one’s side in this job. Thursday deserved a little happiness if that’s what Miss Frazil offered him. Bright was no fool, he seen the look in Miss Frazil’s eyes when she thanked Thursday publicly for saving her life. She clearly admired her saviour and wanted to thank him more privately.

===

This morning Morse was studiously ignoring Thursday, embarrassed at the scene he’d caused earlier at Thursday’s house.

His Inspector decided not to tackle him about it just yet but allow Morse to cool off a bit.

There had been others, over the years, several young men who’d fallen for their handsome superior officer. When he was younger and nearer their age, there would always be one of the new recruits who went all tongue tied around him, eager to please and trying a bit too hard to impress. As he got older and more senior, although he was still readily approachable, it happened less often.

Whenever it happened Fred had always been courteous, kind, put a bit of distance between them until the youngster’s crush wore off. He had never before taken advantage, would never. Aware but too world weary to be flattered, Fred knew a young man’s fancy wouldn’t last for long. So long as Fred treated him right, any admirer would eventually put their giddy feelings behind them and settle into a more mature, steady, professional relationship in time.

But this was Morse.

Morse, who threw himself recklessly at any beautiful young woman who so much as batted her lashes at him. Morse, who got so close to that posh set up in the woods that Thursday feared for a while they’d stolen his heart completely. Morse, who’d fallen in love with an opera singer’s voice long before he ever met her and tried to carry through his hero worship into an affair even though she was a married woman. Morse, whose world had collapsed when that same opera singer had killed herself after he, of all people, had identified her as a murderer.

Thursday shook his head. No, this was Morse, a volatile, emotionally vulnerable soul who needed Fred’s protection, not his exploitation.

They worked steadily through the mountain of paperwork until lunchtime when Thursday decided to try to break Morse’s deliberate silence.

Clearly he’s still upset, thought Fred. Take it slowly. We can talk better over a pint. If I can just persuade him to tear himself away from the paperwork for an hour.

“Fancy a pint?” he asked.

Morse looked put out to be approached so directly by the man he was trying to ignore and shook his head.

“If we’re going to question him this afternoon we need to get our story straight,” added Thursday.

Morse considered this. Apparently Thursday’s offer was not enough of a temptation so Morse bent his head back to his work. 

Thursday was hurt at Morse’s studied indifference to him and anxious to get him to talk. He would have to leave it a little longer he realised for Morse to come down off his high horse and relax enough for them to have a conversation about that kiss. Thursday tolerated his bagman’s cold shoulder and left him to stew in his own feelings a while longer, marching out to find some relief in the bottom of a pint glass.


	5. Fred And Dorothea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains explicit scenes of consensual sex

Thursday had had a long day at the station putting together the case notes, making sure they hadn’t missed any detail. He and Morse had interviewed Castle over several hours who calmly admitted to planning and executing the string of horrible murders. It had been enough to set Fred’s nerves on edge.

He was packing up for the day and decided to ring Dorothea even though it was getting late. He was very much hoping she would invite him round tonight. 

“Frazil,” she answered.

“It’s Fred. Not too late is it?” he asked. 

“No, no, it’s fine. I was hoping you might ring. Maybe you’d like to drop in for a drink on your way home? If you’re not too tired, that is. I realise it’s been a long day but I would like to see you, Fred.”

Fred smiled into the phone and she could hear it in the warmth of his reply.

“Yes. Half an hour do you?”

“Lovely. Look forward to it.”

Delighted, Fred put down the phone. He was excited to be seeing her and pleased that she wanted to see him too. He wondered if the time was right to tell her how he felt about her as he’d like to ask her out if she’d have him. He was uncharacteristically nervous as he left the office. 

Half an hour later Thursday rang Miss Frazil’s bell and tipped his hat when she came to the door.

“Evening.”

“Good evening Fred,” she said. “Come on in.”

Grateful for her warm welcome at this late hour he stepped indoors and followed her through to her sitting room.

“Drink?” she asked, turning to pour them both a whiskey without waiting for his answer.

“You always open the door to strangers late at night?” he scolded gently.

“You’re no stranger!” she laughed. “I took a peek through the curtains before I answered the door, don’t worry. I’m being rather more cautious than usual.”

She handed him the drink and waved him to the sofa.

Fred sat down sighing with relief. This was a proper, grown up welcome, her mature company was just what he so badly needed after a day spent dodging round Morse’s sulking.

“Any news on how the case is going?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“Can’t say. Press statement will be released tomorrow,” he confirmed.

He was not going to let slip any vital details that could upset the criminal case they were building so diligently. Nothing would be released into the public domain until they were good and ready.

“Well, it’s good to see you anyway. I wanted to thank you properly for what you did last night. I really don’t know how you managed it, but I’m very glad you got me out of that car, Fred!”

“So am I,” he replied.

He smiled bashfully, not bothering to deny it was a brave rescue. Here in private he could be honest with her.

She was pleased to see him although he looked rather weary. She decided not to bombard him with questions although she burned to know how the case was developing. Resisting her newspaperman’s curiosity, her instincts told her that Thursday would not give away any confidential details anyhow, even when plied with whiskey.

Dorothea sat on the other end of the sofa, legs curled up beneath her.

“I don’t suppose you’re here to talk through my statement, are you?” she teased.

“No,” he replied. “I’ve asked Morse to invite you in for an interview tomorrow. Better if you speak to him.”

“Oh,” she asked, “why’s that?”

“Well, mebbe I’m a bit too close, that’s all. Better someone else hears your version. Better we don’t talk about this case outside work.”

Dorothea was not surprised; that made sense. They would have to be careful not to discuss details of the case in private to avoid spoiling any evidence. They didn’t want to be accused later of collusion and ruin the evidence.

That just left the question of why he was here, if not to discuss her statement, what other reason could he have? Dorothea got her hopes up that Fred was here just to see her. 

For some time she’d hoped that Fred would ask her out, waiting impatiently for him to do so and now resolved to make the first move herself rather than wait much longer.

She reached out to pat his arm, leaning closer across the sofa. Without any fuss, Fred lifted up his arm and invited her in for a much needed hug. Dorothea crept across to lay her head on his shoulder. After all the frights and perils of last night she badly wanted to feel safe again. 

Here was the man she fancied offering her just that. 

They sipped their drinks in silence.

When he finished his drink and she went to the sideboard for refills.

As soon as she’d left his side, she missed his reassuring presence. She glanced back at him to find Fred staring at her over his shoulder. Without saying anything he too got to his feet and came over to her.

Fred stood behind her as she poured the drinks. He was so close he could smell her perfume and the aroma of the whiskey she was pouring. He rested his hands on her shoulders and she put down the bottle.

“Fred?” she asked quietly, not objecting, but leaning back into him.

He wrapped his arms loosely round her, pressing himself against her back, head bowed to kiss her on the shoulder.

She twisted a little in his grip, turning her head to rest her cheek against his. She was surprised he’d made the first move, as he was usually so reserved, although she would have tried it on with him if he hadn’t. What she really wanted was to take him to bed right there and then and have him hold her all night long.

“Everything alright?” she asked, lifting her hand to his other cheek then stroking his hair.

He nodded but said nothing. He wanted to comfort her, to help her get over her ordeal. He wanted to make love to her, to take her home with him. He didn’t know what he wanted.

Fred straightened up, sighing. He should leave. He didn’t want to but he wasn’t sure she wanted him to carry on like this.

Dorothea sensed his hesitation so she turned round and kissed him. Surprised at her sudden move, he kissed her back, hungrily gathering her up in his arms, running his hands over her, feeling her body pressed hard against his.

Eventually Dorothea broke off from kissing him.

“This is where I ask you to stay the night,” she said playfully. It was a tempting offer, made lightly but he hadn’t expected it.

He straightened up and looked at her in confusion, unsure if she were teasing him still.

Thinking herself rejected, Dorothea was mortified that she might have read the situation wrong. Attempting to cover up her disappointment she tried to step apart.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “That was wrong of me.”

He shook his head and smiled ruefully, keeping hold of her. He wanted to be clear.

“No. I’d love to stay. Just wasn’t expecting it.”

Hugely relieved that he would stay the night, Dorothea made sure he knew she wanted him.

“I’d been hoping you would,” she said. 

He nodded and fell to kissing her again.

Dorothea felt he was the answer to her prayers, a strong, capable fellow who would be very welcome in her bed. She didn’t want to spend the night alone and having chosen to pursue Fred she was glad she hadn’t misjudged him.

====

Fred undressed carefully, his back to her, not to hide his nakedness but to give her some privacy of her own. When he was ready he slipped under the covers at his side of the bed and wriggled over to her. Dorothea had got into bed wearing her slip and underwear so he ran his hand across the silky garments enjoying the feel of them. Lying back, she pulled him over further until he was resting on his elbow above her and smiling down on her.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

She nodded. She could see he was relaxed, amused at their being so intimate so suddenly but not at all fazed. Reaching up, she stroked his cheek and he responded by leaning down for a deep, satisfying kiss that was both sexy and satisfying. 

They kissed for a long time, neither of them in a hurry, relishing the tension that was building up and not wanting it to end too soon. He stroked her slip gently until she needed to feel the touch of his hand against her skin and she started to pull the silken garment up around her hips. Following her lead, his hand slipped underneath and lightly rubbed back and forth over her hips and belly. Caressing her, he trailed his fingertips inside the waistband of her briefs and high up over her bra, never faltering in his firm, constant kissing. Impatient now, Dorothea struggled under him to pull off her slip over her head, needing his help to unfasten her bra and help her writhe free from the last of her clothes.

Naked, she lay back for him to take her. Then he surprised her. 

Most men in her experience would immediately turn to their own pleasure and take her without any hesitation. Instead, Fred stopped, poised next to her and waited for her next move. He was watching her carefully, still gently stroking and touching her to gauge what she wanted of him.

“Kiss me!” she demanded.

So he did.

“Touch me!” she begged, dragging his hand down.

He did that too, with a relish that persuaded her he took nearly as much satisfaction from it as she did. Moaning in pleasure, she tipped back her head and clutched at his wrist as he buried his thick fingers deep inside her. 

“Faster!” she snapped.

Fred bent to his task, covering her with his body, slipping slick fingers in and out faster and faster, his head bowed to her breast, pinning her to the bed. She climaxed quickly and he leant back to watch her lose control, no longer able to command him, beyond the range of words.

During the next few moments, as she swam back into consciousness, Dorothea was aware of his lips and tongue following his fingers as he pushed his face between her legs. It was as if what she wanted was all that mattered to him.

Good God, she thought, after all this time I’ve finally found a generous lover.

Dorothea was thrilled to find how enthusiastic he was in bed. Fred was not only content to follow her lead, but a generous lover who enjoyed giving her pleasure.

She let him keep on licking her until she couldn’t wait any longer. Thoroughly roused now, Dorothea took a fistful of his thick hair and pulled back his head none too gently. He grunted but raised himself up and questioned her with a look.

“I want you,” was all she said.

Fred crept up the bed, rolled his hips into place and hesitated, trembling a little as he shifted his weight onto his elbows. Reaching down she guided his prick into position, gratified as she did so to find it was thick and firm. Fred pushed gently against her until his prick slipped inside her then harder as she raised her hips to meet him. 

“This what you want?” he grunted as he started to push deeper.

“Yes,” was all she could manage. “Harder!”

He bent his forehead to the pillow and shoved his whole weight down, then eased his hips back up again. Judging from her enthusiastic response that she wanted him to carry on, he began to thrust faster and harder. Dorothea clasped him tight, trying to match his rhythm with her own. 

Lost in her own enjoyment, Dorothea gradually released her hold on him and laid back. He shifted his weight slightly not to crush her and she was grateful that he was so considerate. He kept up the pace while she simply let herself enjoy the ride. And she really was enjoying it.

It seemed an age before he took a few more shallow thrusts and coughed into her ear.

“You ready?” he croaked. “For me to come?”

“Yes, yes, come now,” she groaned, slapping him hard on his bare back.

With a great barking groan he finally came and his whole bulk shuddered. Easing himself off his elbows Fred rolled to one side. Gasping for breath, he clumsily reached out to find her hand and brought it up to hold against his chest. 

“My God, Fred,” she said. “I needed that!”

He smiled as he turned back into her and threw an arm across her body, snuggling in close.

“Alright?” he asked.

“Better than alright. That was marvellous,” she laughed. 

Pleased that he had satisfied her, he nuzzled in to her shoulder, his breathing calming down. Gently he tipped her onto her side and spooned in behind her. His solid bulk and warmth were so comforting that she wriggled down into his lap and sighed with pleasure. 

She felt safe with Fred, safe for the first time since the car accident, wrapped up in strong arms and braced against a solid chest.

“That better?” he asked quietly, pulling her in close.

“Yes,” she admitted. “Much better. Thankyou.”

She patted his large hands and pulled his arms a little tighter round herself.

“Is that why you came round?” she asked, half jokingly. “To make me feel better? Because you certainly did that.”

“Nice to know I’m needed,” he chuckled. 

She needed him to drive away the fears that had plagued her since the kidnapping. She trusted him to keep her safe and needed him there with her through the dark night.

And Dorothea needed him, not just for surprisingly good sex but to hold her hand when she woke in the night and to comfort her with soft kisses in the early mornings. He was delighted that she has asked him to stay the night and after so long without having anyone to care for, that feeling made him come alive again.


	6. Caught In The Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains explicit scenes of consensual sex

Day after hectic day, Thursday and his team pulled together the case files, cross referenced the evidence, interviewed witnesses and took statements. Shortly after giving a full confession and then being comprehensively cross examined, the killer was moved to more suitable accommodation in a high security prison. Thursday was glad to see the back of him, disgusted by his chilling indifference to his victims.

Thursday was tired but determined to finish the casework and move on.

Added to that he’d had to deal with Morse being awkward all week.

So the lad was embarrassed, well that made two of them. But he was behaving so childishly all day long, following orders to the letter. Yes, Sir; no, Sir; three bags full, Sir. Morse could be prickly at times but recently he had been downright difficult. His shame over his behaviour at Fred’s house that morning had made Morse angry and resentful, causing Thursday a great deal of heartache.

He had just about managed to get through the the week without slapping some sense into his bagman. Now he yearned to relax in more mature company.

Every night that week he had spent with Dorothea. Every night they had made love, enthusiastically and greedily. Tonight they’d relaxed in a warm bath and were about to get into bed. Dorothea was sitting up in bed waiting for him. Fred walked into the bedroom dressed only in a towel wrapped around his waist.

She looked up, raised one eyebrow and gave a low wolf whistle.

“Look at you!” she giggled.

Thursday was suddenly rooted to the spot. This must have been how Morse felt over at his house, half naked, vulnerable, on show. With a stab of remorse Fred realised what might have been going through Morse’s own mind and how easy it would have been for the lad to mistake Fred’s intentions. The guilt and shame of that kiss with Morse was getting him down.

Self consciously he got into bed beside Dorothea.

He felt he could trust her and he decided to confide in her. 

“How’s Morse?” she asked, perceptively.

“Oh!” groaned Thursday, laying down. 

“He’s alright, isn’t he?”

“Yes, yes,” said Thursday quickly. “Been a long day, is all.”

Dorothea didn’t push the subject but she realised Fred had left something unsaid between them. She cuddled in to his side, still bemused that he had been so easy to persuade into her bed. If only she’d asked him earlier, maybe he would have said yes weeks ago. 

“Thing is, Dee, something happened,” he admitted. “With Morse. And now he won’t talk to me.”

Dorothea sat up in bed and listened intently. Here now was the story of whatever had been bothering him.

“He got the wrong idea, the other night, back at mine,” he continued cautiously. 

With a sympathetic glance, she encouraged him to keep talking.

“Got a crush on me I think. Has for some time.”

“Well, who wouldn’t?” she smiled, trying to lighten the conversation. “Big, handsome man like you!” 

She ran her hands across his hairy chest and bent to kiss him. Watching her reactions closely he decided to plough on with his confession.

“He kissed me!” he blurted out, embarrassed.

Dorothea hesitated for a heartbeat then carried on lightheartedly, judging it best not to get too serious about this coming revelation.

“Morse kissed you?” she laughed. “And what did you do?”

Fred turned his face to the pillow. She could see he was ashamed of what came next and so she abruptly stopped laughing.

“Kissed him back.”

Taking this in, Dorothea thought quickly. There was a precious bond between Thursday and Morse, a deep affection and sincere admiration from both sides. Morse was emotionally fragile at the best of times and she could easily see how he might overthink their relationship, jumping to the wrong conclusion about his over protective mentor.

“That all?” she asked. “Nothing else happened?”

“No!” snapped Thursday, wide eyed, alarmed at the suggestion it might have gone further.

“So Morse kissed you and you kissed him back and that’s the end of it?”

Thursday nodded, relieved that she could be so calm about it.

“Yes, except now he won’t talk to me. Embarrassed I expect.”

“Well he would be, wouldn’t he? It’s Morse, isn’t it?” 

Anyone else might apologise, laugh it off, forget about it, but not Morse. He’d be mortified.

“What do you think I should do?”

Dorothea was gratified that Fred was asking her advice. Not only had he chosen to talk to about this incident with Morse, but wanted her opinion on how to sort it out. They talked for a long time about what had happened, about Morse’s reaction and how Fred might handle things. She felt privileged to hear Fred’s inner most worries and feelings on such a sensitive topic.

Finally they concluded by agreeing the burden was on Fred to sort this out.

“You have to talk to him, whether he wants to or not. Apologise. Make out it was all your fault. Morse will never admit that he was in the wrong.”

“I’ll try. But he won’t come for a beer at lunchtime or meet me in the pub. It’s hardly the sort of thing we can discuss at work.”

“Well you’ll have to find a way,” she insisted. “And when you do, you can tell him from me to keep his hands off, you’re spoken for!”

As she’d hoped, her levity made Fred smile. 

Although a decade older than her, Fred found Dorothea was more than his intellectual equal. She was intelligent and extremely well informed. He could talk openly to her although he never gave any confidences away and could trust her to give an honest, measured opinion which he would listen to carefully. She never talked down to him or tried to show off, unlike Morse who could at times be insufferably arrogant.

She wasn’t upset by his revelation, more intrigued. Morse was such a pretty fellow she felt a little bit jealous. Imagining the two men kissing, however briefly, turned her on a bit, so she pressed in closer to Fred. He responded immediately, grateful to close the subject for now. 

Dorothea climbed on top of him, straddling his hips with her long legs, deciding to try out a new position with her lover. 

Fred could hardly believe his luck. 

In his heart he knew Dorothea valued her independence. Maybe he was just a diversion to help her get over the kidnapping. Maybe she had longer term plans for him, he wasn’t sure. Whatever she felt, he wanted to try to make her happy and in doing so, feel he was needed and loved at least for now.

=== 

As he approached her desk in the empty Mail offices later that week, Inspector Thursday admonished Dorothea Frazil.

“What have I told you about working alone?” he demanded. “And locking the doors?”

Looking up, Dorothea could see he was concerned.

“Good evening,” she said, smiling at him. “It’s alright, I’m done here, just corrected the last typos.”

Following her terrifying kidnap a week earlier, Thursday had insisted that she did not work alone in the office again. She, of course, would not be told how to live her life and though she thought his precautions very sensible, she had actually forgotten them in the rush to finish a story for tomorrow’s edition.

“Anyone could have walked in,” he continued, still annoyed at her lack of regard for her personal safety this late in the evening.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright, it was only tonight and I told the editor he could leave and I was only going to be five minutes…” she said, feeling slightly foolish at her negligence. “It won’t happen again.”

“Promise?” he asked more gently.

“Promise!” she laughed.

Fred spun her wheeled office chair round so she faced him. He placed his large hands on the arms of the chair and bent over her.

“Anyway, what are you doing here this late in the evening?” she asked, taking his face in her hands. 

“Looking for you,” he replied and stole a kiss. 

Fred was not usually a demonstrative man, keeping his feelings closely guarded, but tonight he seemed in a playful mood, encouraged by her sense of mischief. 

Dorothea was pleased to see him. She’d really fallen for Fred Thursday, much to her own surprise. She had found him to be a reassuring presence in her life after her recent kidnap ordeal. She felt so safe with him and was delighted that he came to find her at the end of every busy day.

Bent over, he shifted his footing to ease his back and planted himself more comfortably between her knees.

As they kissed, Dorothea kicked off her shoes and ran one stockinged foot around his ankle.

He broke off kissing her and gave her an amused, questioning look. What was she planning? He had sex on his mind and she seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

“Well,” she asked, flirtatiously, “are you going to take off your hat?”

She enjoyed provoking him. He was such a decent man with a severe public image that she was tickled to find she could sometimes lead him into compromising situations. She could not have guessed how willingly he would follow her cheeky suggestions when they were alone.

Besides he was a generous lover and she enjoyed their uncomplicated sex together.

With a flourish, Fred dropped his hat onto her desk.

“Your turn,” he suggested, playing her game. She was turning him on and he was already feeling horny.

Dorothea lay back in her chair and slowly tugged up the hem of her skirt to reveal the tops of her stockings. Fred grinned, unable to stop himself from staring. This was turning into another one of her suggestive games and he gladly went along with it.

He widened his stance to force her legs further apart.

“Now you,” she dared him.

She could tell that he was up for this, a sexy game played to encourage and tease him, with both of them enjoying the tension and knowing they’d certainly enjoy the end result. 

Unexpectedly, Fred got stiffly to his knees and knelt between her thighs. He slipped his hands under her skirt to tug at her underwear. She was thankful she was wearing a rather fancy pair of French knickers today as she helped him slip them off. 

Fred ran his hands higher, pushing up her skirt to reveal her nakedness.

“Lovely,” he breathed. 

His enthusiasm delighted her. Who would have thought that this most private of men would be so bold as to have sex in a working office like this? Admittedly it was very late and the place was empty, but still, having sex in her own office was an unexpected thrill for her. He was full of surprises.

Leaning forward, he began to kiss her again and slipped one hand between her legs. She pulled him forward, holding him tightly. He jammed his hips between her thighs, pinning her to her chair, kissing her hard and pushed his thick thumb inside her. She was wet for him and arched into his touch. He started to pump his hand slowly back and forth, making her groan into his hungry kisses. 

They kissed for a long time, working themselves up. She caught hold of a handful of his thick, greying hair. Both of them were enjoying having spontaneous sex, egged on by doing it in a relatively public place.

Fred tore his mouth away from hers and bent lower, driving his face down into her lap. 

Dorothea whooped with surprise and delight. Oh God, really, was he really going down on her?

He wound his arms under her thighs and forcing one shoulder even lower, shoved one of her knees over his back so he could plant his face firmly in place. As he began to lick her, Dorothea leaned back to enjoy herself. Here was a man who knew how to breathe through his ears! She held onto his hair and shoved her hips hard back at him.

Except for her own panting and the slurping sounds he made, the office was silent.

Dorothea closed her eyes and moaned a little, wriggling into his face.

Suddenly there was a loud, deliberate cough.

“Shit!” she cried, struggling out of Thursday’s grasp, banging him on the back to look up. “Morse! What are you doing here?”

Thursday straightened up, still on his knees and slowly looked up at the figure who had crept up on them so silently. Defiantly holding Morse’s disapproving gaze, Thursday very deliberately wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. There was no point denying what they’d been up to. Morse had had a good view and had probably been watching for a while. Morse had crept right up close before letting them know he was there.

“I came to check on you, Miss Frazil, seeing the office lights were on,” Morse snapped indignantly. “But I see you already have company.”

Dorothea groaned in embarrassment. Hiding her knees under the desk, she leant her elbows on the desk and dropped head into her hands.

Thursday got stiffly from his knees and to his feet. Keep cool, he thought, Morse has every right to be outraged at our frankly indecent behaviour. Don’t lose your temper. This is Morse being holier-than-thou. He’ll have his say then he can bugger off.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” Morse asked angrily of Thursday. “No apology for outraging public decency? Or lewd behaviour in a public place?”

Thursday was about to lose his temper and tell Morse where he could stick his Public Justice Act when Dorothea spoke up.

“Oh for goodness sake, Morse, just go!” she urged from behind her hands as she hid her face in shame. 

She reached up to clasp Thursday’s hand which he’d placed reassuringly on her shoulder. Breathing hard, Thursday just about managed to keep his temper. His saying nothing only provoked Morse all the more.

“You’re disgusting!” spat Morse at him then spun round and marched away. He had worked himself up into quite a state.

Thursday pulled Dorothea into his side as he stood beside her.

“It’s alright. He’s gone,” he whispered.

Her shoulders were shaking and she was making gasping noises behind her hands. Worried at how upset she appeared, Thursday stroked her hair and crooned some calming words.

He was surprised when she threw back her head and howled with laughter, with no sign of being upset. He smiled at her perverse reaction to their embarrassing confrontation.

“Oh Fred!” she laughed, “he looked so, so, outraged! So bloody annoyed at us. Like he couldn’t believe what we were up to…”

Thursday couldn’t laugh this off. Of all people to catch them in a compromising situation, it had to be Morse, didn’t it? 

He picked up Dorothea’s discarded silk knickers and handed them to her.

“Oh, I won’t be needing them again tonight,” she said archly. “Not if you’re coming back to mine?”

Thursday was keen to get out of there. Of course he wanted to spend the night with her but the run in with Morse had taken the edge off his excitement. Thursday cursed his own stupidity. He should have followed his own advice and locked the office door.

But what the devil was Morse doing there, anyway? Was he following him, spying on him? Why had he stood for so long watching them before letting them know he was there?

**Author's Note:**

> This has an adult theme as I wanted Fred and Dorothea to have a good time together after everything they’ve been through. 
> 
> Fred’s already divorced, his children Joan and Sam have already left home so he’s on his own and lonely. Dorothea needs comforting and takes a fancy to Fred.
> 
> The timeline doesn’t match canon but it’s loosely related to S4E1 ‘Game’.
> 
> Warning : Morse isn’t very nice in this, he’s jealous and difficult but this story’s not about him.


End file.
